But after being ice-bound for a month, she began to realize that fear was also apparent in her own face. The atmosphere had grown more tense. Julian seized every opportunity to yell at her and vent his frustration at being confined to the island. Karl regarded her with a cold expression, and the two men were always whispering to each other. With their eyes fixed on her, they would sit on the kitchen bench and put their heads together, murmuring. She couldn’t hear what they said, but she knew it wasn’t good. Sometimes she would catch snatches of their conversation when they thought she was out of earshot. Lately they’d talked a lot about the letter that Karl had received from his parents shortly before the ice set in. Their voices were agitated whenever they discussed the letter, but she couldn’t work out what it might have said. And truth be told, she didn’t really want to know. The anger in Julian’s words and the resigned tone of Karl’s voice made shivers run down her spine.

Nor did she understand why her parents-in-law never came to visit, or why she and Karl never went to see them. His childhood home was only an hour’s journey from Fjällbacka. If they left early in the morning, they could have made it back well before darkness fell. But Emelie never dared broach the topic. Every time a letter arrived from his parents, Karl would be in a gloomy mood for days. The latest letter had prompted a reaction that was worse than ever. But as usual, Emelie was relegated to the sidelines, unable to comprehend what was happening around her.

9

‘Nice place,’ said Gösta. His eyes swept over the flat. Even though he was pleased with himself for taking the initiative, his stomach churned at the thought of Hedström’s reaction.

‘Probably gay,’ said Mellberg.

Gösta sighed. ‘What exactly are you basing that assumption on?’

‘Only gay guys have places as neat and tidy as this one. Real men always have a few piles of crap in the corners. And they definitely don’t have curtains on the windows.’ He frowned as he pointed to the snow-white curtains. ‘Besides, everybody says that he never had any girlfriends.’

‘I know, but …’ Gösta sighed again and gave up trying to argue. Mellberg may have been born with two ears, just like everyone else, but he seldom used them for listening.

‘If you take the bedroom, I’ll take the living room. Okay?’ Mellberg began pulling books from the shelves.

Gösta nodded as he surveyed the room. It was a bit impersonal. A beige sofa, a coffee table made of dark wood with a light-coloured rug underneath, a TV on a stand, and a bookcase with a small selection of books. At least half of them were non-fiction works about economics and accounting.

‘What a strange guy,’ said Mellberg. ‘He has hardly any possessions.’

‘Maybe he liked living an uncluttered life,’ said Gösta and then went into the bedroom.

It was as neat as the living room. A bed with a white headboard, a bedside table, several white-painted wardrobes, and a chest of drawers.

‘There’s a woman in the photograph in here,’ Gösta yelled to Mellberg as he picked up a small picture that was leaning against the lamp on the bedside table.

‘Is she a hottie? Let me see.’ Mellberg came into the bedroom.

‘Er, well, maybe pretty would be a better description.’

Mellberg glanced at the photo and made a face to indicate that he wasn’t especially impressed. He went back to the living room, leaving Gösta to stand there holding the picture. He wondered who she was. She must have meant something to Mats Sverin. It seemed to be the only photograph in the whole flat, and he’d kept it in the bedroom.

Gösta put the picture back on the table and began going through the chest of drawers and wardrobes. He found only clothing, nothing of a more personal nature. No diaries, no old letters or photo albums. Though he meticulously searched every nook and cranny, after a while he had to concede that there was nothing of interest. It was almost as if Sverin had never existed prior to moving into the flat. The only thing that contradicted this was the picture of the woman.

Gösta went back to the bedside table and picked up the photograph again. He thought her very pretty. Slender and petite, with long blond hair, which the wind was ruffling around her face at the moment the picture was taken. He squinted and held the photo closer as he studied every detail. He was looking for some clue that might tell them who she was or at least where the photo was taken. Nothing had been written on the back, and the only thing to be seen behind the woman was a lot of greenery. But when he took another look, he suddenly noticed that on the right side of the photo a hand was visible. Someone was either on his way into or out of the picture. It was a small hand. The photo was too blurry for him to be a hundred per cent sure, but he thought it was a child’s hand. Gösta put the photo down. Even if he was right, that didn’t really tell him much. He turned on his heel and started to leave the bedroom, but then changed his mind. Returning to the bedside table, he picked up the photo and tucked it in his pocket.

‘This really wasn’t worth the trouble,’ muttered Mellberg. He was on his knees, peering under the sofa. ‘Maybe it would have been better to let Hedström handle the search after all. It feels like a complete waste of our time.’

‘We haven’t done the kitchen yet,’ said Gösta, pretending not to hear Mellberg’s complaints.

He began pulling out drawers and opening cupboards in the kitchen, but he found nothing of interest. The dishes looked as if they came from IKEA, and neither the refrigerator nor the pantry was particularly well stocked.

Gösta turned and leaned against the counter. Suddenly he caught sight of something lying on the kitchen table. A cord ran down under the table and was plugged into a socket in the wall. He picked up the cord for a closer look. It was a computer cable.

‘Do we know whether Sverin had a laptop?’ he called.

He didn’t get an answer, but he could hear footsteps trudging towards the kitchen.

‘Why do you ask?’ said Mellberg.

‘Because there’s a computer cable here, but nobody mentioned anything about a laptop.’

‘It’s probably at his office.’

‘But wouldn’t they have said so when Paula and I were over there? They must realize that we’d be interested in seeing his laptop.’

‘Did you ask them?’ Mellberg raised an eyebrow.

Gösta had to admit that they hadn’t. They’d completely forgotten to ask for permission to inspect Sverin’s computer. Presumably it was still in the council offices. He suddenly felt like a fool, standing there with the cable in his hand, so he let it fall to the floor.

‘I’ll drop by the council offices later on,’ he said, and walked out of the kitchen.

‘God, I hate waiting. Why does everything have to take so long?’ Patrik muttered with annoyance as he pulled into the car park in front of Göteborg police station.

‘Getting the report by next Wednesday is actually quite fast,’ said Paula. She held her breath as Patrik barely missed hitting a lamppost.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ replied Patrik as he got out of the car. ‘But we have no idea how long it’s going to take to get the results from the forensics lab. Especially the data on the bullet. If there’s a match on record, we need that information now, not in two weeks’ time.’

‘It can’t be helped. Besides, there’s nothing we can do,’ said Paula, heading towards the entrance.

They’d phoned to say they were coming, but the receptionist still asked them to take a seat and wait. Ten minutes later a muscular and unbelievably tall man appeared and came striding over to them. Patrik reckoned he must be well over six feet tall. When he stood up to shake hands, he felt like a midget in comparison. It was even more extreme for Paula, who was so short that she reached only to the man’s waist.